Though our love may last
the life of a red round rose
we'll always have the past
dripping down the tip of your nose
You walk shotgun into a room
I turn on heel and walk out
you yell and curse and scream and loom
I claim to not know what you're talking about
We first touched lips
in that ragged pink pedal boat
Perhaps not quite our first kiss
I explained in my last desperate note
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